


Mistakes Were Made

by shanghaigirl2010



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Izaya Being Izaya, M/M, Plot Twists, Shizuo Throws Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanghaigirl2010/pseuds/shanghaigirl2010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo attempts to deal with the consequences of last night without breaking everything in a ten meter radius. Izaya is a devious little liar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistakes Were Made

Shizuo grunted as the mid-morning light cut through the curtains and fell across his closed eyes. He absently swatted at it, which did absolutely nothing. Mumbling with irritation, he settled for grabbing a nearby blanket and pulling it over his face. The fabric was oddly thick and lined with fur, and it smelled just like— _flea._

Shizuo immediately jolted awake and flung the offending material aside, clutching it in one hand as he confirmed that it was indeed the Coat of Doom and Animal Cruelty. “What the fuck,” he growled, scowling at the signature jacket of his most hated enemy. Just a glimpse of that particular design was enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing, as more than a few unfortunate fashionistas had learned.

He blinked as his half-awake brain abruptly caught up to the situation. If Izaya’s coat was here, then Izaya couldn’t be far behind. Shizuo glanced around before noticing a lump in the blankets right next to him, and a crown of tousled raven hair peeking out from under the comforter. Fuck. Speak of the devil.

Of course, that raised the disturbing question of why Izaya was in bed with him, as well as how they’d gotten into such close proximity without either sustaining life-threatening injuries. Shizuo swept his eyes over the area to check for bloodstains, just to be sure. None were visible. However, there was a chunk of wood missing from the headboard, the shredded, feathery remnants of a pillow, and what looked like someone’s failed attempt at making a balloon animal. Upon closer inspection, the balloons turned out to be condoms. Used condoms. 

Shizuo froze. He and Izaya—they couldn’t have. Could they? Shizuo racked through his recollection of the previous night. He and Izaya had both been invited to Shinra’s “bachelor party”, which hardly deserved to be called one, since it was just the three of them hanging out in Ikebukuro. Apparently it had been arranged at Celty’s suggestion, as a way for them to try reconciling old grudges and to potentially limit the collateral damage at Shinra’s upcoming wedding. 

[You and Izaya are both Shinra’s friends] Celty had texted Shizuo earlier that evening. [It’d be nice if you two could get along]. Shizuo had wanted to say it was hopeless, but Celty was a close friend, and he didn’t want to disappoint her. [I’ll try] he’d replied instead.

It turned out to be a terrible idea. Shizuo distinctly remembered struggling to endure Izaya’s thinly veiled put-downs at dinner (which worked for all of thirty seconds), getting kicked out of the restaurant for public disturbance, and apologizing to Shinra, who honestly seemed too giddy to care. 

In an odd gesture of goodwill, Izaya had tried to make up for everything by offering to buy them all drinks at some fancy lounge. Shinra had ordered a few fruity cocktails and kept waxing poetic about his beautiful future with Celty, while Izaya half-pressured, half-irritated Shizuo into downing drink after drink. Sometime after the eighth or ninth round, Shizuo lost track of himself. The only comfort he had was by virtue of the “innocent until proven guilty” principle.

Shizuo took a few deep breaths and convinced himself to relax. Maybe the condoms weren’t his, and even if they were, he would’ve used them on someone else. Blacked out or not, there was no fucking way he’d touch that manipulative bastard. That was actually the most logical explanation, and the more Shizuo thought about it, the more he realized how irrational he’d been. Enemies did not sleep with each other. What a ridiculous idea.

Shizuo’s conviction held firm until Izaya let out a soft murmur and rolled over. He blinked once, rust-colored eyes focusing on Shizuo’s face as a smirk spread across his lips. “Good morning, Shizu-chan. Did you sleep well?” His voice was soft and his words seemingly polite, but they held an undertone of suggestion that set Shizuo on edge.

“Shut up,” Shizuo snapped automatically, before he realized that Izaya hadn’t managed to sneak an insult in.

Izaya lazily propped himself up on an elbow, sheets still bunched around his skinny frame. “Ah, how rude. Is this how you treat all your partners, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked, eyes glinting with amusement. “After you ravished me like the beast you are, I expected at least a little more consideration.” He sighed, expression veering dangerously close to a pout.

“Huh?” Shizuo choked, his earlier doubts about what had happened last night crashing back full force. “The fuck are you talking about? Stop spouting nonsense, flea.” It was the first time Shizuo actually hoped Izaya would start laughing.

Instead, Izaya regarded him coolly, his eyes lingering on Shizuo’s mouth before flicking up to meet his gaze. “If you’re going to deny it, I guess I’ll have to remind you,” he offered, sitting up and letting the covers slip from his shoulders to pool into his lap.

Shizuo’s eyes widened almost comically as he took in the reddened bite marks on Izaya’s shoulder, the dark rings circling his delicate wrists. There were smaller bruises scattered across his chest and trailing haphazardly down to the jut of his hipbones, which bore the distinct imprint of fingers. The discoloration stood out starkly against Izaya’s ivory skin, lending him a rare sense of fragility.

No matter how Shizuo looked at it, it looked bad. The shape and location of those marks made it clear they weren't from any fight. Actually, if there _had_ been a fight, Izaya would've ended up with a lot worse than superficial injuries.

During the course of this observation, Shizuo also realized that Izaya was surprisingly pretty for a man, with his strange wine-red eyes and glossy black hair. Given enough alcohol and a darkened room, Shizuo could _maybe_ imagine confusing Izaya for a girl, but as a rule, Shizuo avoided being intimate with anyone for fear of hurting them. That meant he had to have been aware that he was fucking Izaya. _Izaya._

“You were so rough with me, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, almost too lightly to be accusing. His eyes flashed disapproval for a second, before he reverted back to his usual cheery mask. “Well, I shouldn’t have expected anything else from such a simple-minded animal.”

The insult didn't even register, as Shizuo was too busy having an existential crisis. He had blundered through a fair amount of bad decisions in his life, but sticking his dick in Orihara Izaya really took the cake. For starters, Shizuo had not been aware he was attracted to men, let alone a man who’d consistently tried to ruin his life since high school. It kind of felt like walking into a surprise birthday party, except all the presents consisted of spring-loaded switchblades and passive-aggressive hate mail.

There was no doubt that Izaya would find every possible way to use this information against him. His temper flared at the thought of Izaya supplementing his arsenal of biting insults with scathing innuendos. _“Oh, Shizu-chan, what a large pole you have there. Are you compensating for something?”_ or _“You're the same as always. All power, no prowess. Just like your technique in bed.”_ Shizuo could almost hear every lilting syllable from that poisonous mouth, and his jaw reflexively clenched.

Meanwhile, Izaya seemed blithely unaware of Shizuo’s inner turmoil. Either that, or he was enjoying the concentrated expression of frustration on his enemy’s face. “Shizu-chan? Oh dear, have you finally lost what little brain function you had?” He carelessly waved a hand in front of Shizuo’s face, and when that failed to elicit any reaction, promptly backhanded the blond.

Shizuo blinked and shook his head a few times in a manner reminiscent of a disgruntled puppy. “Eh? What did you say?”

“You’re crushing the bedpost,” Izaya pointed out, instead of provoking his rage.

“Oh.” Shizuo hastily retracted his hand and frowned at the splintered wood remnants. The hotel bill was not going to be pleasant. “Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He really needed to get his shit together and resolve this as painlessly as possible. Preferably without using any more makeshift stress balls.

Shizuo reached for his pack of cigarettes, only to remember that he was not wearing pants. He cursed and glared around the room in search of them. Thankfully, they were draped over a nearby armchair. Shizuo quickly fished out a pack and lighter, before slipping a cigarette between his fingers and dipping it into the weak flame. The lit end flickered orange as he drew in a lungful of smoke and breathed out plumes of whitish-gray. Shizuo was expecting Izaya to berate him for it, just to piss him off, but the man merely waited, quietly watching him from his side of the bed.

 _Inhale. Exhale. Repeat._ Shizuo had tried to quit smoking before, at Shinra’s suggestion, but nothing else had the same soothing effect on him. If he truly was a monster, he doubted something like this could hurt him much anyway.

“Look, I don’t remember what happened last night,” Shizuo said, once the rush of nicotine had eased the weight of his anger. “If we,” he steeled himself, “if we fucked or something, then that was a mistake. It doesn't change anything between us, _I-za-ya-kun,_ ” Shizuo finished, drawing out the last few syllables with just a hint of aggression. He stubbed out his cigarette on an ashtray.

There was a tense moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for longer, until Izaya finally spoke. “Ah, I see.” He began chuckling, ragged huffs of amusement that gradually increased in pitch and intensity, until Shizuo wasn’t entirely sure whether the man was laughing or crying.

 Shizuo shot him a questioning look. “What the hell?”

“You’re so stupid, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, looking up, a grin plastered across his face. “Did I ever say we had sex?”

“What?” Shizuo narrowed his eyes. His confusion only intensified when Izaya brought two fingers to his mouth and licked them suggestively, before smearing at a prominent bruise under his collarbone until it left a fading suggestion of color.

It took a few seconds for that information to process, all the twisted pieces clicking into place like the detonator on a bomb. Shizuo saw red. “You—you fucking tricked me?” The last two words devolved into a growl. He instinctively reached for Izaya’s throat, but the man was already slipping away, jumping back and snagging his clothes off the floor with a half-twirl.

“There’s no need to sound so betrayed, Shizu-chan,” Izaya chirped, as he danced away from Shizuo’s clumsy swings with an impressive amount of dexterity. “I only let you draw your own conclusions. It’s not my fault you were so easily misled.”

 “Bullshit!” Shizuo spat, settling into the familiar routine of throwing nearby objects at Izaya, starting with the desk lamp.

 “Ah, could it be that Shizu-chan secretly wanted me?” Izaya asked, after narrowly ducking past the vase Shizuo had lobbed at his face. One of the crystal shards had managed to nick his cheek, leaving a thin streak of crimson, but that seemed to do nothing to dull the brightness in his eyes. “Well, isn’t that _adorable._ ” He snickered and skirted around the coffee table.

 Shizuo let out a wordless scream of anger. “I'll kill you, kill you, kill you,” he started chanting, as he continued chasing Izaya around the suite, upending most of the furniture in the process.

 “You should calm down a bit, Shizu-chan,” Izaya suggested, as he lounged against the grand piano, having managed to shrug on his t-shirt and jacket in between limited parkour stunts. His skinny jeans were looped around his elbow like a bizarre fashion statement, and Shizuo might’ve found it funny if he weren’t so damned angry.

 “Shut the hell up. You started it,” Shizuo snarled. “Now stop running so I can beat you bloody, flea.”

 “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think you can afford to pay for any more damages,” Izaya said, with a condescending smile. “This is a very nice hotel, after all.”

 At that, Shizuo hefted the entire couch over his head and launched it as hard as he could at Izaya, who darted to the side.

 There was a loud crash as the panoramic window shattered from the impact, the sound of broken glass accompanying the crunch of wood and the discordant tones of the piano, which had been partially obliterated by the sofa.

 In the brief moment of silence that followed, Izaya met Shizuo’s gaze with a smirk. “Bye, Shizu-chan.” He fluttered his fingers in a wave, before stepping onto the sill and slipping through the gap in the empty pane.

 Shizuo rushed over to the window and watched with disbelief as Izaya finished tugging on his pants, straightened his clothing, and skipped away like he hadn’t just fallen two stories.

 “Crazy bastard,” Shizuo muttered to himself. He sighed and surveyed the wreckage caused by their little conflict. There went his next few paychecks.

“I’ll kill him.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a Hangover AU that got stuck on Shizaya. Any feedback would be appreciated. Also, if you would like to fangirl about all things Shizaya, feel free to talk to me because I have too many feelings about this pairing.


End file.
